


Try and Tear Me Down

by lovetheblazer



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Fluff, Hedwig on Broadway, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, crisscolfer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 00:15:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3830104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovetheblazer/pseuds/lovetheblazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darren sustains a minor injury rehearsing for his debut in Hedwig and the Angry Inch. Thankfully, Chris is there to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Try and Tear Me Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lightsandsparks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightsandsparks/gifts).



> Because it's Sam’s birthday. Also a little birdie told me Darren hurt his wrist and I'm pretty sure I'm like, contractually obligated to write fic about it at this point.

“Hey,” Chris answers on the second ring, a little surprised to be hearing from Darren in the middle of the afternoon on a Wednesday.

“Hi yourself,” Darren replies. “Whatcha doing?” he sing songs.

“Book edits, pretty much the usual. A better question would be what are  _you_  doing calling me in the middle of prime rehearsal time?”

“They let me go for the day,” he mumbles.

Chris glances down at his watch, frowning. “You're done with rehearsals at 3:30? That's weird.”

“And so am I. I'm weird too, remember?” Darren slurs.

“Are you  _drunk_?' Chris asks, not sure if he should be amused or concerned. “Is Broadway fucking you up that badly already?”

“No, not drunk,” Darren assures him, though he doesn't volunteer any further explanation much to Chris' chagrin.

“Oookay?” Chris questions. “Are you high?”

“Not really. Not exactly,” Darren says.

“Time to spill, Criss. This guessing game is growing thin and I don't want to be here all night,” he huffs impatiently.

“I just got home from the ER,” Darren sighs.

“You  _what_?” Chris gasps. “Jesus, talk about burying the lead.” Then more gently, he continues,“What happened? Are you okay?”

“I'll be fine. Hairline fracture of my wrist. They gave me a couple of Vicodin so it doesn't even really hurt anymore,” Darren explains.

“What about the show?” Chris wonders aloud.

“Is that all you care about – if the show will go on?” Chris can practically hear the pout in Darren's voice over the phone.

“I care about you. And the show was important to you, last I checked,” he reminds Darren.

“They said as long as I kept it splinted for the next ten days, I should be fine without it by opening night. Hopefully they're right because this brace really doesn't go with Hedwig's costumes. I'd have to bedazzle it or something,” Darren laughs.

“Let's lay off the craft projects for the time being, hmm?” Chris suggests.

“Boo, you're no fun,” Darren whines. “I need a project. I've got the rest of the night off and I'm too fucked up to really go anywhere.”

“Why don't you sleep,” he encourages. “God knows you could use that.”

“Sleep is for the weak,” Darren insists. “It's also boring. Besides, it's just my wrist. It's not like I'm actually sick or anything. Resting's not going to make it heal any faster, I don't think.”

“Maybe you need optimum rest for bone healing or something? I don't know. I'm not a doctor...”

“...you just play one on TV,” Darren finishes.

“Sadly no, Grey's Anatomy still hasn't called to set up my audition yet, even though I might have proposed it to Shonda Rhimes over Twitter,” Chris quips.

“Mmm, I'd like to see you in scrubs,” Darren groans appreciatively. “You should buy some online and come play sexy nursemaid to me. You can give me a sponge bath and everything.”

“In your dreams,” Chris scoffs.

“Oh, it has been. More than once.”

“You take all the fun out of being sarcastic by being totally serious about the stupidest things, you know that?” Chris shoots back.

“You might have mentioned that to me a time or twenty,” Darren chuckles. “But seriously, you should come to New York. I could use your help this weekend since I'm slightly crippled now.”

“It's a hairline fracture. You'll live.” Chris rolls his eyes.

“It still hurts though. How am I going to take care of myself with only one functioning arm?”

“You're aware that the 'poor me, I'm so pathetic' puppy dog eyes don't  _actually_  work over the phone, right?” Chris tells him.

“Facetime?” Darren tries again.

“Don't you dare. I won't pick up even if you give it a shot.”

“Don't you love meeeee?” Darren whimpers pathetically.

“You know that I do. But let's just see how you're feeling in a few days, okay? Chances are by then you'll be totally consumed by rehearsals again and you won't even want me there,” Chris advises, trying not to let on how much his resolve is weakening already.

“I  _always_  want you here,” Darren promises. “So be here.”

“We'll see,” Chris is noncommittal.

“God, you're just as bad as my parents. Didn't you learn that 'we'll see' or 'maybe' are like fuel on the fire for kids? It just makes them beg even harder,” Darren grumbles.

“Are you finally admitting that you're legitimately a five year old?” Chris teases. “Is that what's happening here?”

“Technically, I'm an adult. But maturity has never been my strong suit and I seriously doubt that prescription painkillers will help matters any,” Darren yawns.

“Aha!” Chris exclaims triumphantly. “See, you are tired. Go take a nap, alright? Fake doctor's orders.”

“Does that make you my doctor?” Darren murmurs sleepily.

“Sure, why not.”

“Fine, I'll go take a nap on one condition: you order some scrubs online. If you're going to boss me around more than the hospital staff did, I at least deserve a decent visual.”

“You are the most ridiculous person I've ever met,” Chris laughs fondly.

“Non-negotiable. Hospital scrubs or no dice. The tighter, the better.”

“What the hell am I going to use hospital scrubs for though, like seriously?” Chris inquires.

“Uhh, just off the top of my head? Sexy role play, making your ruggedly handsome boyfriend feel better when he's sick or injured, whatever insane costume you come with for some Halloween down the road, and your upcoming Grey's Anatomy audition,” Darren lays out.

“At least two of those things are never going to happen. But fine for the sake of your exhausted body, I'll humor you. I'll purchase the scrubs if you get your ass in bed right this minute and take a long nap. And no scrolling Twitter instead. I'll totally find out if you try it.”

“Yes sir,” Darren grouses, “no need to get snippy.”

“Enjoy the nap, hon. Text or call me whenever you wake up, okay?”

“It's a deal.”

* * *

Chris stands outside Darren's apartment the next morning, fidgeting nervously as he waits for Darren to answer the door to let him in. He'd impulsively decided to take a red eye flight from LAX to JFK at the last minute, figuring if he wanted to sneak in and see Darren without being noticed by the paparazzi, a flight that arrived at 5 AM was probably the best way to do it. It was a little after 6 AM by the time he'd hailed a taxi and tasked the driver with stopping by a corner bakery to snag some coffee and breakfast pastries for the two of them.

Now Chris is starting to wonder if he'd made the right call, given how long he's been waiting for Darren. He assumes Darren took another painkiller before bed which might make him difficult, if not impossible, to rouse from sleep.

Chris is about to knock one final time before he switches to calling Darren when he hears the gentle padding of footsteps towards the door. After a second, he can hear the sound of the deadbolt being unlocked and then Darren's opening the door and peering at him in shock.

“Surprise?” Chris manages.

“You're here. Oh my god, that's the  _best_  surprise. Come in,” he beckons.

“Even better, I come bearing gifts of food and coffee,” Chris announces.

“No gift can beat you. Coffee might be a close second though.” Darren rubs at his eyes blearily. “What time is it? Is it early? It feels early.”

“Yeah, it's a little after 6 AM. I took a red eye.”

“Tired?” Darren asks as he sits down at the table, watching Chris unpack the food.

“A little. I slept on the plane some though. You?”

“Yeah, I didn't sleep very well. This stupid splint kept getting in my way.”

“Poor thing,” Chris tuts sympathetically. “Let me see.”

Darren dutifully holds out his arm so that Chris can inspect it. “Still sore?” he asks.

“Yes, more so today than it was yesterday, to be honest,” Darren sighs.

“How did you hurt it, by the way?” Chris wants to know. “You never did tell me.”

“Just tripped over myself during rehearsal. Nothing major.”

“Did the heels finally cause you to slip up?” Chris laughs. “I'm surprised it took you this long.”

“Hey, five inch heels are no joke,” Darren pouts.

“Oh, I agree. That's a pretty hefty height difference to fall from, especially for someone as short as you. I'm surprised you don't get altitude sickness every time you put the shoes on,” Chris baits.

“I hate you so much,” Darren moans.

“No, you don't.”

“You're right, I don't. Even if you are super mean to me sometimes.”

“Hey, need I remind you that I flew all night just so I could be here to baby you?” Chris prods.

“Yes, why is that exactly? I didn't think my sales pitch yesterday afternoon had you convinced,” Darren inquires.

“It didn't really. I'm mostly immune to your begging at this point. I know your wrist is going to be fine and as much as you pretend otherwise, you don't really need my help. But I also know how stupid you can be when you're high on painkillers and I figured someone needed to make sure you didn't run in front of cab because you were chasing a butterfly,” Chris spells out.

“I wouldn't get myself killed chasing a butterfly,” Darren protests.

“Darren,  _please_ ,” Chris shoots him a disbelieving look.

“I wouldn't! Not a butterfly anyways. A pigeon, maybe, or possibly a kitten. I'd  _definitely_  chase a fluffy bunny into the road. Insects don't really do it for me. Too hard to keep track of them, it spoils the hunt,” Darren tells Chris without a trace of irony.

“Dear god, how many Vicodin did you take?” Chris looks at Darren with amusement.

“None so far today. I'm just strange. 100% all me, no need for pharmaceutical enhancement, baby,” Darren hums.

“Well, I was  _going_  to suggest we save the food for later in favor of heading back to bed, if you catch my drift, but now I might just change my mind.”

“I'll dial down the wackiness for a bit if it means we can have sex, okay?” Darren offers magnanimously. “Did you bring the scrubs?”

Chris rolls his eyes. “When would I have had time to pick up a pair of scrubs, you perv? They don't exactly sell them in airplane terminals. C'mon, think it through.”

“Chriiiiiis, no fair. We had a deal,” Darren whines.

“Sorry, you'll have to settle for just me sans costume. But you know, I think they actually recommend nakedness for sex so it might work better that way. If you stop pouting, I'll even let you call me Doctor McDreamy in bed. Final offer, expires in like thirty seconds.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Doctor,” Darren purrs breathily, peering up at Chris from lowered lashes.

It's the first and last time Chris lets Darren call him McDreamy in bed, but in the end, it's  _so_ worth it.


End file.
